For many reasons I am unable to relate to mainstream fashion magazines, notably because they pimp $400 t-shirts as a feasible item to purchase. At that point (which is usually within the first 10 pages), I slam the magazine down on my coffee table and leave in a fit of

I have a past of being continuously screwed over. I’m pretty sure my leech of an ex-boyfriend who still manages to interfere with my present-day life is why I have this pipe dream of being swept off my feet by a wealthy B-list celebrity or a rich finance dude. Until